Monday, 1 April 2013
‘To grasp the heel of heaven’
Another weekend in Lichfield has come to an end ... except that this was no other weekend; this was Easter weekend, and it was full of joy, full of hope and full of promise.
For the first time in almost 20 years, I was able to take time away from the busy-ness that so many of us become wrapped up in from Maundy Thursday to Easter Day, and instead to have the time and the space to think on the meaning of Easter, and to be fed spiritually by others when it comes to my own prayers and reflections.
Standing outside in the cold and the dark at the great west door of Lichfield Cathedral before dawn on Sunday morning, waiting for the Pascal Candle to be lit from the brazier, I was thankful that my Easter faith was first sparked in Lichfield, and that this place has been my spiritual birthplace.
Throughout the weekend, I was in the cathedral two or three times a day to follow the daily rhythm of prayer and liturgy as I had my spiritual batteries recharged.
But some of that spiritual recharging also took place during walks in some of my favourite quiet places around Lichfield, including Minster Pool, Stowe Pool, the Cathedral Close, Vicars’ Close, Beacon Park, up and down Beacon Street and in the country lanes around the Hedgehog where I was staying, including Cross in Hand Lane, Abnall’s Lane and the fields and farms west of the Western Bypass.
The three-hour Good Friday Liturgy included four reflections by Archdeacon Chris Liley, who is due to retire next month, and there was music by Thomas Tallis, Carlo Gesualdo, Tomás Luis de Victoria, John Stainer, William Byrd, John Sanders, Antonio Lotti and John IV of Portugal, sung by two choirs, Lichfield Cathedral Choir and Lichfield Cathedral Chamber Choir.
The Reproaches by John Sanders are particularly challenging in the solemn setting of a cathedral on Good Friday:
O my people, what have I done to you? How have I offended you? Answer me!
The words describe at length the good things God has done, and humanity’s response, putting Christ to death. Sanders set this narrative as a simple chant; saving his rich and excruciating harmonies for the refrain and draws on the Orthodox Trisagion for the response:
Holy is God! Holy and strong! Holy immortal One, have mercy on us.
The cathedral was full for those three hours, and it was moving to see how many people came forward for the veneration of the cross, draping it with lengths of red ribbon ad stopping in silent prayer.
Early in the morning on Holy Saturday, the cathedral was being prepared, every corner was being cleaned, flowers were being arranged and furniture was being moved in a holy busy-ness preparing for Easter morning.
As we moved around the cathedral, we prayed for different tasks and different ministries that make the cathedral a place of welcome and a spiritual home for so many.
But everything came to a stop as Morning Prayer began in the Lady Chapel at 9.30, praying at different stages around the cathedral for those who were preparing the cathedral for Easter. At the Sacristy we prayed for vergers, servers and embroiderers. At the Flower Room, improvised at the Pedilavium, we gave thanks for the beauty of creation and for those who donated and prepared the flowers.
At the North Transept door, we prayed for those who come to the cathedral to pray, as worshippers and as visitors, and “for all who found in this place a welcome, friendship, fellowship and a spiritual home,” for stewards, guides, welcomers and greeters.
At the Crossing, we gave thanks for those who had built and adorned the cathedral in the past and continue to do so in the present, including the “Holy Dusters” as they sweep, clean and polish, all inspired by the vision of the New Jerusalem (Revelation 21: 1-2, 18-21).
We ended up in the centre of the quire, giving thanks for the “gifts of music and its power to lift us to grasp the heel of heaven,” and for musicians, composers, choristers, performers and bell-ringers.
The Easter Vigil began in the cold and the dark outside the Great West Door of the Cathedral. But as we read through the Bible stories about Freedom, from Genesis to the New Testament, the light slowly began to pour in through the East Windows, which are still filled temporarily with clear glass, and then down from the clerestory windows on the south side. The miracle of the dawn and the new light slowly but surely filled our morning, and the Gloria – silenced and unsung throughout the forty days of Lent – was now a delightful and glorious affirmation of faith.
Archdeacon Liley reminded us that the Resurrection faith is not about history, detail or drama, but about present reality, and that the Church is not simply for people like us or people we like, but for all, and its life depends not on what we say to one another but on what we do for others.
There was an Easter Baptism and Confirmation at the font in the North Transept where we had prayed about welcome less than 24 hours earlier, and an opportunity for all to renew our Baptismal vows and commitments.
As we moved to the quire for the Eucharist, the fire alarm sounded and the organ was silenced – the same thing happened at the end of the Eucharist at Pentecost last year ... it must be all that holy smoke.
Afterwards, we were invited back to the College Hall – once part of Lichfield Theological College – for Buck’s Fizz and to toast the morning.
After breakfast back in the Hedgehog, we returned to the cathedral later in the morning for the Easter Liturgy at 10.30. The Eucharistic setting was Mozart’s Mass in D, sung by the Cathedral Choir, with the Darwin Ensemble Chamber Orchestra.
The Great West Door was open once again as the Mayor of Lichfield and Civic dignitaries as thy processed in for the Liturgy, at which the dean presided and Bishop Jonathan Gledhill preached.
The recessional hymn as the Easter Liturgy concluded, You shall go with joy, was written by a former Dean of Lichfield, Bishop Tom Wright, and he tune, Darwin Close, was written by the celebrated local composer Paul Spicer.
Throughout the weekend, there were opportunities to meet old friends too. On Good Friday, a Facebook friend went out of our way to say hello and to introduce herself and her husband, another Lichfield blogger. On Saturday afternoon, we had lunch with two friends I have known since my time in Lichfield in my late teens and early 20s – one even said with surprise she had never known why I had moved to Ireland ... she had not realised I was born in Ireland.
It was too cold to think of sipping Pimms in the evening outside the Hedgehog, and the cricket season has not yet begun. But there was a warm welcome everywhere.
Before leaving Lichfield for the return journey to Dublin, we called back in to the chapel in Saint John’s Hospital, close to Lichfield City Station. This is where my faith was first nurtured when I was in my late teens in the early 1970s. More than four decades later, I am still returning to this spiritual home which has the power to lift me up “to grasp the heel of heaven.”